


Home in the Rain

by rosatine



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, but it ends happy ok, they have a fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-27
Updated: 2016-11-27
Packaged: 2018-09-02 13:51:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8670166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rosatine/pseuds/rosatine
Summary: “God, we’ve talked about this before, Oikawa, we had different goals—”“I wanted to play with you, Hajime. Up till then, I’d never played a game of volleyball without you—” Oikawa returns breathlessly, his voice growing louder with each word. What is this? He thinks distantly. I don’t want to fight.





	

**Author's Note:**

> hello there i'm back again and i hope this doesn't disappoint i spent really long on it just changing the plot over and over but i hope you like it <3

“I’m home,” Oikawa calls, toeing his sports shoes off at the door. A gruff “welcome home” floats from the living room, and he smiles despite his exhaustion, a familiar warmth bubbling up inside him. It’s become routine, coming home to Iwaizumi after volleyball practice, cuddling up to him with aching muscles, pestering him for kisses until he gives in.

“Volleyball practice was murder,” Oikawa sighs, collapsing into Iwaizumi’s side. “Coach is _merciless_.”

Iwaizumi ruffles his hair absent-mindedly. “Can a national player really complain?”

“Mmm,” Oikawa mumbles incoherently in reply. “Everything hurts.” He nuzzles into the space between Iwaizumi’s neck and shoulder and studies his profile, the sharp angles and ridges of his face highlighted by the dim light spilling from the television screen. Iwaizumi looks as bad as he feels, eyebrows bunched with stress, dark shadows under his eyes and cheeks just the slightest bit sallow. Being a sports physiotherapist isn’t easy, and it’s taking a toll on him.

Still, Iwaizumi—concerned, patient Iwaizumi—glances worriedly at him and says, “you’re not overworking yourself again, right? Your knee won’t hold out forever you know—”

“Yeah, yeah,” Oikawa cuts him off, waving a hand dismissively. “I know, I know, Iwa-chan, I’m resting enough, okay? Geez, you’re so overbearing sometimes.”

Iwaizumi stills next to Oikawa. “I’m overbearing?”

“No, I don’t mean—”

“If I hadn’t been there all throughout middle school and high school, you would have had to kiss your Olympic dreams goodbye—”

“That’s not true! I can take care of myself!”

“As if! You—”

“What about you, Iwa-chan? Working yourself till 4am for entrance exams? College exams? Even now, you’re still—”

“It was medical school, dumbass, I had to get a scholarship for grades since I couldn’t get one for volleyball—”

“And why couldn’t you? You could have gone pro, you know?”

“God, we’ve talked about this before, Oikawa, we had different goals—”

“I wanted to play with you, Hajime. Up till then, I’d never played a game of volleyball without you—” Oikawa returns breathlessly, his voice growing louder with each word. _What is this?_ He thinks distantly. _I don’t want to fight._ But they’re both tired and stressed and at their absolute limits, and suddenly all of Oikawa’s pent-up feelings are overflowing and spilling out of his mouth, words that were never meant for Iwaizumi to hear, selfish, bitter words said to himself alone in his room and discarded soon after. _Tell me I’m being stupid_ , he prays desperately. _You know I don’t mean any of it._

“So? We’re different people, Oikawa.”

“So—I—”

“It’s all about you, isn’t it?” Iwaizumi sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “Was I supposed to follow you your whole life?”

They lapse into a tense silence, lungs heaving from their sudden shouting match. At some point, both of them had gotten up from the couch, and are now standing in a face-off, hackles raised. Oikawa kind of wants to cry.

He snatches up his sports bag from where it had been left by the sofa and turns to stomp to the front door. “I’m going out,” he snaps. “Don’t come after me.”

“Like I would,” Iwaizumi mutters, and Oikawa slams the door.

~~~

 

It’s cold outside; Oikawa huddles deeper into the jacket he’s wearing to ward against the chill. Autumn is seeping in slowly, dying leaves red and golden brown around the edges and baring tree branches. Oikawa thinks longingly of his warm apartment and his warmer boyfriend—

He sighs as he keeps walking down the street aimlessly, away from their apartment. His anger has already been doused by the wind that brings spots of colour high on his cheeks, and now regret sits heavy in his stomach, unwelcome. It had been senseless, the both of them fueled by fatigue and worry and old insecurities. Oikawa hadn’t meant anything he’d said, and he’s sure Iwaizumi hadn’t either, but still, he can’t help thinking of his last words.

_It’s all about you, isn’t it? Was I supposed to follow you your whole life?_

God, he really is selfish. Back in their last year of high school, when Iwaizumi’s acceptance letter from Chuo university arrived, Oikawa had wanted to burn it. His own mail from Chukyo sat heavy on his mind as he read Iwaizumi’s letter, congratulating him and trying to smile. Their fates had been sealed; Iwaizumi in Tokyo, and Oikawa in Nagoya, hours away by train.

Of all the emotions Oikawa could have been feeling in that moment—pride, happiness, wistfulness—he had felt betrayed, disgustingly so. Of course he couldn’t have expected Iwaizumi to come with him. He had his own dreams, and they were separate people, no matter the fact that they’d never been apart since the day Oikawa’s mother first laid Tooru in the cradle beside Hajime.

It had all been so sudden; packing away seventeen years of their lives in tape and cardboard boxes, making Skype accounts, exchanging addresses and saying, painstakingly, _this is my new apartment; come visit, if you want._

Separation was hard. Sure, Oikawa met other people in university; Kuroo Tetsurou, Bokuto Koutarou, Daichi Sawamura, and even made peace with Ushijima Wakatoshi. But they didn’t fill the Iwaizumi-shaped hole in Oikawa’s chest, carved deep into his heart with years of shared history.

They visited each other as often as they could, each time with bright eyes and flushed cheeks and tight hugs that said, silently, _I’ve missed you._ It was only natural then, that they would get an apartment together come end of college. Old habits die hard, after all.

So here they are. And here Oikawa is.

He’s been stumbling along the street for a while now, fighting tears and the wind and the ache in his heart. There’s a konbini a few blocks down, and Oikawa sighs as he enters the warmth of the shop, removing his hands from where they had been clutched tight against the collar of his jacket. There aren’t a lot of customers here at this late hour, just a couple of stragglers buying some groceries on their way home from work. Oikawa wanders up and down the aisles in a trance, mind elsewhere and already piecing together bits of an apology. Maybe he could make Iwaizumi agedashi tofu—no, he’s still a catastrophe in the kitchen even after all these years—or maybe go on holiday somewhere nice...

He takes an onigiri off the shelf and walks over to the cashier counter even though he’s not hungry—he just wants an excuse to stay and mope in the konbini for as long as he can before he gets up the courage to go back home and beg for Iwaizumi’s forgiveness. His phone falls out of his bag as he’s digging around for his wallet, and when he catches it, the screen is bright with five new messages and two missed calls from Iwaizumi. He swallows the feeling of acid on the back of his tongue, pays for his food and sits down on a bench in the shop, clicking at the messages hesitantly.

**[26/11/16, 9:05pm]**

**From: Iwa-chan ٩(♡ε♡ )۶**

where are you

 

**[26/11/16, 9:06pm]**

**From: Iwa-chan ٩(♡ε♡ )۶**

i’m sorry, ok? please come back n we can talk

 

**[26/11/16, 9:09pm]**

**From: Iwa-chan ٩(♡ε♡ )۶**

well if u don’t want to see me right now, i get it

 

**[26/11/16, 9:09pm]**

**From: Iwa-chan ٩(♡ε♡ )۶**

please come back soon tho

 

**[26/11/16, 9:09pm]**

**From: Iwa-chan ٩(♡ε♡ )۶**

if u want me to come get u i can

 

Oikawa sniffs and wipes at a tear gathering in the corner of an eye. Damn Iwaizumi; he was a sweetheart through and through. Oikawa really doesn’t deserve him, especially after what he’d just said to him. Well, Iwaizumi would kick his ass for thinking that though.

He’s not ready to face him just yet, so Oikawa sits and chews away at his riceball mechanically, guilt and remorse churning themselves into an bitter stew in his stomach. After he finishes his food, he stays and stares into thin air for a long time until he sees the shop owner glaring at him and hastily gets up to leave.

The wind outside has died down, but the clouds overhead are fat and dark, a promise of rain. Oikawa inhales deeply and begins to walk. Tokyo isn’t unfamiliar to him anymore, after being drafted by the national team and moving here, but it’s still a strange city, filled with tall skyscrapers and cramped buildings and faceless passers-by. It’s not Miyagi, where everyone for miles knows each other, and the stars come out at night, and where home is, however many steps away from it he might take.

But home is a person, not a place, as the saying goes, and Oikawa’s learned to love Tokyo when Iwaizumi is there beside him. The Tokyo he sees alone is a lot less forgiving and warm, and Oikawa’s heart hurts again.

Thunder rumbles in the distance, suddenly, and jolts Oikawa from his thoughts. It makes him shrink into himself just a little, remembering his seven-year old self cowering under a blanket, willing his heart to stop jumping at every loud clap that boomed from the storm beyond his window. He glances up, just as the skies open and rain pours down in showers, drenching him before he can blink, and starts running, runs until his feet take him to a pavilion in the park nearby.

He wrings out his jacket in the shelter, and combs fingers through his sodden hair. _I really am down on my luck today_ , Oikawa sighs, and for the first time that night since he left his apartment, lets himself think freely of being wrapped up warm and cosy back home with Iwaizumi, snuggling into his favourite warmth, falling asleep to the sound of raindrops hitting the window and Iwaizumi’s slow breathing. He briefly contemplates the idea of calling Iwaizumi to come get him, because who knows when the rain will stop, but he doesn’t. He can’t bring himself to.

“Hello there,” a voice exclaims beside him, surprised. Oikawa turns to see a middle-aged woman, also soaking wet, staring at him. He hadn’t realised there was anyone else in the pavilion. “What are you doing out at this time of night? Don’t you have someone waiting for you at home?”

“Ah,” Oikawa says, at a loss for words. “I, um. I...did something wrong, so…”

“Lovers’ quarrel?” The woman grins knowingly at him. “You youngsters are so hotheaded. I’m sure it’s nothing bad, hm?”

Oikawa smiles tightly at her and takes a seat on the stone bench, hugging his knees to his chest. “I hope you’re right, ma’am.”

“Ma’am sounds so old! Please, call me Aizawa.”

“Nice to meet you Aizawa-san. My name is Oikawa.”

“Gosh,Oikawa-kun, this rain really is never-ending,” she remarks crossly, staring out at the sheets of slanting raindrops. Oikawa hums in reply, and then they both fall silent.

“How long have you known each other?” Aizawa says suddenly, and Oikawa glances up at her cautiously.

“Um, twenty two years now? Well, I think. I don’t know, I’ve known him since I was a baby,” Oikawa’s eyes widen when he realises he’s let slip that he’s in love with a boy, but when he lifts his head in alarm, Aizawa’s face is still warm and open, without a sliver of ice in it. He breathes a sigh of relief, and continues. It’s oddly cathartic, spilling his troubles to a stranger in the middle of a storm, giving his story to someone who didn’t know him and whom he would never see again. “We grew up together...and then it was only natural, I think, that I fell in love with him.”

“What is he like?”

“Grumpy,” Oikawa answers immediately, lips contorting into a pout. “Mean. He makes fun of me the most. When we were seven, I got stuck in a tree and he told me to just jump down myself.

“But then he came and got me anyway. He acts heartless but he never means it. He used to sneak me candy even when my mother told him not to. He comforts me when I cry. His favourite food is agedashi tofu. He double-knots his shoelaces. There’s a scar above his eyebrow because I kicked him off the bed when we were five. I—” Oikawa’s voice breaks and he ducks his head behind his arms, tears finally falling down his cheeks and mixing with rainwater to drip from his chin. Lightning and thunder chase each other across the sky, and suddenly he’s back in his childhood bed, young and afraid and trying to survive the storm on his own.

There’s a hand on his back, gentle and comforting. “Oikawa-kun,” Aizawa says mildly. “I think someone’s here for you.”

Well, he was never really on his own.

In his memory, a younger Iwaizumi opens the door quietly, tiptoes to the bed, and pulls a trembling Oikawa into his arms. He shushes him and tucks his head under his chin, tugs the blanket up over both of them. “I’ll be here,” Young Iwaizumi says. “I’ll be here, okay? So go to sleep.”

Oikawa looks up.

Iwaizumi is running towards the pavilion with an umbrella over his head, and another one in his hand; he’s yelling what must be his name, but it’s lost in the crash of the storm around him and the loud beating of his heart.

Then Iwaizumi has his arms around Oikawa and his hands find his and he’s not cold anymore, he’s so unbearably warm, and—

“God, you’re soaked. Let’s go home,” Iwaizumi breathes, letting go of him. Oikawa notices that his clothes are damp where he hugged him. “Iwa-cha—”

“Come on,” Iwaizumi shoots him a look that says _not now_ , and Oikawa gets to his feet dazedly, still holding Iwaizumi’s hand.

“Aizawa-san.” Oikawa turns and smiles a real, watery smile at her. “Thank you. See you around.”

She waves at him and winks, giving him a thumbs-up.

~~~

 

“How forward, Iwa-chan,” Oikawa giggles a little hysterically as Iwaizumi begins to strip him of his wet clothes. Iwaizumi snorts and pulls Oikawa’s shirt up around wet brown hair, shutting him up with a yelp as the cloth becomes entangled around his head. He shrugs it off with a huff, and Iwaizumi pushes him towards the bathroom.

“Shower,” he orders. “Then we can talk.”

When Oikawa exits the bathroom with one of Iwaizumi’s shirts hanging off his shoulder and a pair of boxers too big for him, Iwaizumi is sitting on the bed in their shared bedroom, clicking through his phone. The sight is so familiar that Oikawa’s heart lurches. He wonders how many people in the world don’t have their own Iwa-chans to look for them when it rains, to whine at and cuddle with when they’re sad, and he crosses the room to snuggle up against Iwaizumi, turning his face into his shoulder. It’s Iwaizumi who speaks first.

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m sorry, too, Hajime.”

They stay quiet for a while, locked in their embrace, until Oikawa says, muffled in Iwaizumi’s neck, “why did you come find me? It was just a little rain, and I’d have come back eventually.”

“You couldn’t go to sleep without me during a storm up until we were seven,” Iwaizumi starts, and chuckles at this, and Oikawa pinches his side in retaliation. “And I thought, I didn’t leave you alone then, so why should I now?”

Oikawa blushes, and smacks Iwaizumi’s chest.

“Don’t say embarrassing things.”

“You were crying when I found you.”

“Shut up.”

A beat.

“I didn’t mean what I said before.”

“I know. Neither did I.”

“I really love you, Hajime.”

“I love you too, Tooru.”

**Author's Note:**

> please leave kudos and comments if you liked this!
> 
>  
> 
> [Link text](www.rosatine.tumblr.com)


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